Well -- That Didn't Take Long. . .

Robert left this afternoon to go pick up a friend of his from the airport about 11 minutes ago.

What's significant about "11 minutes", you ask ?

Well, I'll tell ya.

Approximately TEN minutes ago, Scooter brought in another DANG BIRD.

This one was still breathing, thank goodness, so he's now ensconced in the cat carrier next to our fireplace that only has the pilot light going. (I wanted him to be able to warm up, not have roasted tweety bird, after all.) Scooter was plied by a liberal administration of the kitty treats he loves best, so I am not perforated, either.

Anyhow, this is yet another post that demonstrates my husband's unique and absolutely mystifying sense of timing.

Thoughts ?

Update: Please play taps on the nose flute. Bird decided to squeeze out of the carrier holes while I was in the shower for five minutes and Scooter made sure that the bird won't do it again. I have sent the bird to the Great Feeder in the Sky in one of my soon-to-be-patented Ziploc bird coffins. (With extra spearmint as greenery.)

Weird Things that Happen At My House

"I'm a deadly spoon ninja."

*crash - from the living room*

Two small white & black bullets follow their chosen escape route up the stairs as quickly as huma. . . err. . . *cattily* possible.


Cats have tipped over the Christmas tree. Again.
Ornaments are scattered about on the floor. Again.

We took a moment to de-skew the tree and threw the skirt on.

Now that the tree is again upright. . . it has lost all its interest for them. Either that, or the adrenaline surge from the fear that Momma might be going to tie them together by their tails in a winner-take-all death cage match might, *might*, have tuckered them out.

Stay tuned for the further adventures of. . . WILD (Giffords) Kingdom.

Thoughts ?

Random Thoughts Late at Night

I'm sure that this has been fully explored in the intellectual musings of the Austin Powers trilogy, but. . . have you ever noticed that the villains in every action movie are always the ones that are totally Type-A and punctual ?

The heroes, on the other hand. . . are usually late. This comforts me a little. =D



======================================================


Yes. This means that christmas cards will be going out late this year -- again.

Thoughts ?

And, Yes -- I Know That I Have Been Neglecting the Blog

Blame Santa.

Or the elves.

(just don't tell 'em I said so)

Thoughts ?

What Makes a Cat Dig In a Basket on Top of the Fridge ?

Well, I'll tell you this -- it took about two weeks to find out. 13 days and 23 hours to chase him off the refrigerator repeatedly and about 15 seconds to identify the open bag of teriyaki-flavored beef jerky on the floor when Robert and I came back in from Christmas shopping the other day.

See ? Scootah not stoopid.

*sigh*

Thoughts ?

Well, I Went And Voted. . .

for the lesser of two evils.

And that is all I will ever say about it.

Thoughts ?

Kismet + Big Paper Shopping Bag with Handles. . .

equals equal parts loud hilarity, cat panic, and utter clutter disaster on the stair landing.

Plus a kitty hiding underneath our bed for about an hour (which, for her, is like 7 3/4 months in purgatory.)

Momma ? I know you know what this looks/sounds like.

=================================================

Anyhow, I keep all the kitty toys in a big paper shopping bag in the corner in our bedroom. They have been there for months because it's easy to grab something out of there, play with the kitties, and then just toss it back in the sack when they get tired.

A couple of nights ago, Kismet apparently got a little curious about the toy smells in that lovely bag. (She loves bags of any kind, paper, plastic, suitcases, whatever, so this wasn't really a concern. Evidence below. =D) She nosed around and made the bag crackle but, again, this is pretty normal behavior.

What ended up being our first indication that something might be wrong was a small, sleek, black LIGHTNING BOLT -- fleeing for her life out of our bedroom, dragging the sack WITH HER. She had gotten her head stuck inside one of the handles and was skedaddling as fast as her four little paws would go.

All we heard was the sack rustling behind her and the thumpity-thump of terrified feline. And then -- we heard the crashing. Up and down the stairs. Smashity-whack, thumpity-run.

Before I could stop and figure out what just happened, she reappeared in the bedroom, again at a dead run. Again, with the sack still ON HER. CHASING HER ! Eeeee.

She came to rest, hiding underneath our bed, having ripped the handle OUT OF THE BAG. Bag was underneath the bed with her, but she was SAFE. Phew !

It took us another ten minutes to quit laughing DIRECTLY at her, even after we made sure that she was okay (no bones broken, no blood, everything intact except her kitty pride.)

Poor baby. *snort*

I felt terrible for her -- at least until I saw EVERY TOY THEY OWN scattered to hell and gone all over the landing AND STAIRS. Yeah, that took a while to clean up.

Thoughts ?

Happy Birthday. . .

Muzzie-loo.

You've been gone for a while, but you still inspire me. Your words still govern a lot of what I do on a daily basis and I just want people to know that, when I say something sensible, there's a 95% chance it was something that you said to me first.

Thank you so much for your wisdom, your humor, and your patience. I miss you.

Bottle Shock ?

Only because they could not call it Bottle FAB-U-LOUS !

Robert and I went with a friend of ours last night to see Bottle Shock. It is the true story of the birth of worldwide acceptance of California (Napa Valley) wines.

Neither Robert nor I is an oenophile (sp?), but we both thoroughly enjoyed the movie. It is also one of the few where Bill Pullman "disappears" as an actor within the character that he is playing. There's a mixed bunch as far as the majority of other actors goes, although I think Alan Rickman may have found another role that will be memorable (along, of course, with Snape & Hans Gruber from Die Hard.) His facial expressiveness is remarkable. Dennis Farina is also dryly funny in his secondary role. (Oh. Nearly forgot. Take Kleenex. No, really.)

Anyhow, this is our second "artsy" movie in about three weeks. I also have to recommend Man on Wire, which is a documentary of a tightrope walker who . . . well, let's just say he pulled off a certain feat that will never be duplicated (for more than one reason).

I won't mention Tropic Thunder here except to say -- yes, Kate. We saw it and it was pretty funny. I do have to say, however, that I nearly had to go and get the manager because of the "trailers".

Bring on Oscar season and all the GOOD movies ! Yay !

Thoughts ?

News Flashes

1) Clay Aiken outs himself.

2) I faint and fall over from shock. -- *** Edited to show sarcasm ***

Thoughts ?

A Sign of the Apocalypse ?

Yes, I just saw a rerun of Reba "Parenting with Puppets".

The sign is not that I agree with the puppet idea -- it is that a television show on mainstream media actually showed parenting that I understand.

Short synopsis: bratty kid breaks a lamp with a bat. Touchy-feely daughter-in-law mom gently explains that "next time" he will not get a sticker for good behavior. Reba explains her parenting style, which actually reminds me a great deal of my parents' style. Vealmoor, represent ! It involves actually disciplining the child and explaining the consequences of one's actions.

*shrug* I dunno any more. . .

Thoughts ?

Ves-POO-Vius

Yes. It's EXACTLY what it sounds like.

Guess what ? I know now where my septic tank lid is in relation to my front door. I also know exactly how far down to dig to find it.

What I did NOT know before last night is this: if enough lint goes through the washer at one time, it's possible for it to get stuck between the end of the pipe and the edge of the concrete septic tank. It is also possible at that point for it to prevent . . . anything. . . from flowing down the pipe. It is also possible at that point for NOTHING to flow OUT of the house pipes. And then, when one's DH decides to take a shower. . . well, that water has to go somewhere. Ours chose to go straight up and over. This causes the wife in the house to scream upstairs "WATER OFF ! NOW !" and the husband to run downstairs in a towel. Poor man -- I did a lot of yelling in the next 10 minutes. It is mostly a blur, but I do remember barking orders like a drill sergeant for "more towels", "another damn bucket", "get out of the way", and "FLOWERPOT". There was also something about requiring poor DH to snatch some clothes on.

To spare my dear readers the details, let me just say that I have had a lot of towels to do on the "sanitary" cycle, which involves the hottest water known to man. I also have to figure out how to bleach my wood bathroom floor without ruining the finish. *sigh*

Oh, and if you are in the Pacific Northwest near us, please let me assure you that FloHawks (and Northwest Cascade in particular) were FABULOUS to deal with. The gentleman that they sent by our house was fast, knowledgeable, and thoroughly professional. The fact that this little process began at 8:30pm on Labor Day and did not finish up until about 11:15 last night is a minor blip on the radar, really.

I have now let the Universe know that I am all set on blog posts for a while, thanks.

(And, yes -- the car is allegedly alllll fixed now. That was the other little detail hanging fire from a few days ago.)

Thoughts ?

No Good Deed Goes. . .

without humor, it seems.

So, we're out and about this afternoon, doing some weekly errands -- grocery shopping, hardware store, bookstore, you know -- "normal" things.

It's raining a little up here today (which is to be expected) - a soft, misty Pacific Northwest rain.

What do these two facts have to do with the good deed, you ask ?

Well, therein lies the story. . .

My husband has a very soft heart at times and today was one of those times. We were headed back to our house when we happened to spot a gentleman walking along the side of the road, in the rain. After a quick discussion of "should we pick him up ?", we ended up with this. . . nice. . . gentleman in our car and us having volunteered to take him to a friend's house.

BUT.

Here's the rest of the story: When he got in the back seat, we both immediately realized that he is thoroughly three sheets to the wind. Toasted to the nines. Wow. He tells us his name immediately and he seems to be a pleasant drunk, but a definite drunk, nonetheless. He blathers constantly, EXCEPT to give us the information that we have to have in order to get him to a safe place. He tells us that his wife tossed him out of the house/car this morning, that he did a little drinking at one of the watering holes close to our house this afternoon (Momma -- you KNOW which one that is, btw. It's the one where we saw the OTHER freak show kerfuffle last year.), that he "took a bottle of whiskey into the library (!), dropped it on the floor accidentally (!!), and RAN (emphasis mine, but still . . . R.A.N. ! )", and that we were his "getaway car".

Lord. How do we manage to get in these messes ?

Anyhow, we kept asking questions, mostly related to "where do you live ?", "where is your friend's house ?", etc. He continued to mention that his friend lives "by a school". Well, normally, this wouldn't be nearly this difficult, but we live very close to a bare minimum of three schools. While we are asking these questions, he is TOUCHING everything that we have in the back seat, including my husband's backpack, and asking us what kind of pizza we are taking home. Weeeeird.

To make a long story short, we dropped him off at his friend's house. We have NO idea if his friend knew that he was coming over or if we got him to the right house AT ALL, but we pulled up, he departed the car, no one shot at us, and we got the h-e-double-hockey-sticks outta Dodge.

Thoughts ?

The Wheels On the Bus Go. . .

honestly, folks, I have no idea. The screaming in my head is just now beginning to abate.

Here's how my day started --

I knew that I needed to actually go in to the office today as I had some client-facing meetings. Okay, no big deal. I bounce downstairs this morning all dressed and packed, ready to hop in the car and face my day. I back the car out of my driveway and put it into Drive. This is where it got a little dicey. rrrrrrrr. 2 mph rrrrrrrr. Whut ?

I think I may have accidentally put the car in Neutral and my mashing on the gas is not doing anything. I double-check and make sure it's in Drive. Oh, it is. Okay -- should be all good. rrrrrr.

Um. Hmm.

Mash gas harder. rrrrrr. Try 2nd gear. rrrrr. Try 1st gear. rrrrr. Uh, do what ?

Dagnabbit.

Back the car up my 45 degree uphill driveway - mad. Reverse works JUUUUST fine.

*thinking*

I do what any normal full-grown woman would do when it comes to possible car trouble -- I call my Momma. We toss around several ideas, but. . . here's the thing -- I have to get to WORK.

How difficult can that be ? Well, friends and neighbors, I know EXACTLY how to answer that particular question now. Ride with me. I go back in my house and begin doing a little sleuthing. I check out the bus schedule website and print out some options. Then I find a cab company here in the area. Seems pretty simple.

I call the cab guys and explain who I am, where I live, and what I need. I would have given the dispatcher directions to my house, but -- hey -- they are a CAB company. They should know every freakin' street IN my little town, right ? Seems reasonable. Ha ha ha. Laugh with me. The guy shows up about 20-25 minutes later. AFTER he tried to call me because his "GPS wasn't finding my street". Like it's hidden. =/

I give my boss a call to explain the situation while I wait for the cab to "find me". I pack mule it into the cab when it finally shows up and explain my tiny predicament. All I have to do is go less than 2 miles across the bridge to catch a bus into Downtown. Still filed under "Simple". Oh, nooo.

Long story short - 11 dollars later (plus tip), he lets me know that he "thinks I may have missed the bus". The tip was for him being Sherlock.

I call my boss and let her know where I am and what the deal is because at this point, I have two options: I can wait for the next bus AT the transit stop where I already am OR I can pay ANOTHER 11 dollars to miss both meetings this afternoon. Hmm. Decisions, decisions.

I park myself at my favorite spot in the world. Mmmhmm. It is about 9:15 at this point. I have a conference call scheduled at 10am. During this call, I see a bus come into the Transit Center, but I realize that it is the wrong number, so I do the first intelligent thing all day -- I do NOT get on it. Yay, me ! I stand, instead, exactly underneath the pole with the number from my website trip planner that I was smart enough to print out earlier this morning.

30 minutes into my call, the nice young man from the bus company finally quits sleeping (or whatever the heck he was doing) in his truck and comes to chat with me. To tell me that the bus I am waiting for - underneath the correct pole - does not RUN AT THIS TIME OF THE MORNING. There was some shrieking in my head, so I nearly missed the other good news that he had to pass along to me -- not only was I standing underneath the wrong pole, I was standing underneath the WRONG POLE. THIS side of the Transit Center goes . . . NORTH. Not South. Not to Downtown. Not to anywhere that I need to be. And thus, he points me in the right direction. It is as I am gathering up my belongings that Mr. Good News, as I like to call him, explains that, over THERE, at THAT pole is where the bus actually slowed down and stopped about five minutes ago. Five minutes BEFORE. Like the five minutes before where I would have had a CHANCE TO CATCH IT INSTEAD OF STANDING HERE LIKE AN IDIOT. WITH YOU WATCHING ME FROM YOUR TRUCK, KNOWING that the bus was behind me.

About ten minutes after moving poles, by the way, I had the distinct pleasure of watching one of the town's finest drop off two . . . "ladies". . . at the stop. I will not elaborate. Another HOUR goes by. Of standing. Because, God knows, I do not dare close my eyes or blink or whatever because that is when they send the STEALTH BUS by.

Miracle ! A BUS ! With the correct NUMBER ! At the correct POLE ! Yay !

Do I have the slightest idea what to do next ? Certainly not. BUT. I am the proud owner of three brand spankin. . . um. . . new. . . err. . . well, just fine one-dollar bills. One of the very rare times that I do not have any other type of small money on me, natch. But ! I have three. And three is what is called for. I take "bus lessons" from the driver which include "Okay, how does this work ?" (by which I mean, do I get a ticket ? Is change given ? Does this bus actually go downtown ? Are you going to cut me for not knowing what I am doing ? Is Disneyland on this route ?). His response, and I kid you not, "Uh, just stick those in there", pointing to the bill sucker. I realize that I am a bus rookie, but c'mon, man -- throw me a bone !

Two dollars later, I am the proud owner of a little orange paper thingy with the consistency of bingo card paper and a strange glow about it, almost like a Willie Wonka Golden Ticket. (That may just have been my perception, but. . .w/e) OH, and there is no change.

I throw all my stuff in a seat and think "Thank God, I made it." 30 seconds later, I get a call from my boss -- I need to join another call. . . while I'm on the bus. I ride all the way to the OTHER transfer station with the phone smashed to one ear and my finger jammed in the other.

At the transfer station, I have a momentary (five, possibly ten, minutes) panic attack when it occurs on me that I haven't any earthly idea which bus to get on NOW. (Nor what POLE IT MIGHT BE AT because I know now that THAT IS IMPORTANT) I do the only sensible thing. . . I make sure I am the last person off the bus and I ask Mr. Sunshine the Driver.

He grunts and points at a bus that he determines will get me there "the fastest". I cling to those words like they are the red ones in the New Testament. I run (okay, only in my mind) over to the bus to find. . . no driver. No driver. People are sitting ON the bus. . . without a driver. I pause to mull that over when I spy the gentleman who is walking around, rubbing the gravel top of the trash can, and talking to. . . himself. Okay -- I figure he has a Bluetooth headset, no big deal, although the gravel rubbing does give me pause. It is only when he goes to make a call on the flip-open Star Trek communicator phone that I realize. . . (slow horror dawning) NO HEADSET. I now have another job -- watching him to make sure that he does.not.stab.me.

He very calmly finishes his phone call, hangs up, closes his phone, and CONTINUES TO TALK TO HIMSELF. OUT. LOUD. (I let him enter the bus ahead of me, needless to say).

I have now spotted the driver of the bus. He is the spiffy gentleman hoofing it back to the bus from across the street, where he has apparently placated his caffeine addiction. Phew ! He walks directly to the bus and, instead of GETTING IN IT, goes around to the driver's side window and carefully places his cup of coffee in the holder, turns around, and walks across the asphalt to the small employee's lounge. AFTER he looked in the bus and saw people IN IT. At this point, I do not understand if he actually IS the driver or if he just went and got coffee for the actual INVISIBLE driver.

TEN MINUTES LATER, he emerges from the lounge and settles in to his driver seat. I have to assume that there are some murderous stairs down to a banging club scene because I honestly have no idea what could have been done in that small space for ten minutes. And I DO. NOT. WANT. TO. KNOW. EVER.

I explain again to the driver that I have no idea what I am doing, which is patently obvious, and flash my orange ticket at him, asking "Is this okay ? Do I need to do anything else ?" Two grunts mean "No, get on the bus and quit bugging me." TWO grunts. I think one grunt means that he is lactose-intolerant, but. . . I figured that might be getting a bit personal.

I go to the VERY back of the bus because I figure when I do my much-earned crying, at least no one else can see me. It is when I put all my stuff down that I realize *ping* I just broke a fingernail. Fabulous. But absolutely par for this course.

I settle in and crack open my book to try and relax a little. Three stops later, a smell gets on disguised as a human being. Wow. Does he sit beside me ? No, the universe took a tiny bit of pity on me and only put him in the seat in front of me. Phew. And I mean that. PHEW.

Halfway to work, I realize that one of the other people on the bus, sitting across from me, is READING THE TITLE OF MY BOOK OUT LOUD, LAUGHING, and POINTING AT ME. Welcome to /ignore. Oh, and Larry ? Make DAMN sure you go and get Jean because, you know, SEVEN REMINDERS MIGHT NOT BE ENOUGH. In MY ear. It goes without saying that I remember that you need to pick up Jean, Larry. I just hope that YOU remember.

I get to Downtown and realize I haven't a clue where this route ENDS. I start seeing landmarks and get off at the first one where I am dead sure that I know where I am and can walk to work with no problems. Fortunately for me, the Smell got off at that same stop. So that you know that I do have a heart and do feel bad for being snarky about this, I will share a small tidbit. The first building that the Smell turned into was labeled assistance for mental health, so. . . I take that as a small comfort that he seems to have been getting help. Or a shower. Quite frankly, after the morning I had, I thought long and hard about joining him. At the building, that is -- NOT the shower.

Anticlimax: I walk the rest of the 23854932465.3 blocks in the misty rain without further incident, although I believe thoroughly that I am about 3 inches shorter than yesterday due to hauling around 200 pounds of crap in my bag and purse and laptop case. I am at work at a record time -- 12:45p. Fab.U.Lous. But at least I have learned something about the public transportation system -- which is that I stink at doing this and do not plan to repeat this little adventure any time soon.

I have also learned not to ask the Universe for anything without being VERY specific and here's what I mean: Just yesterday, I mused out loud that I never had anything good to blog about.

Thoughts ?

Sorry, Baby. . .

But I am definitely needing to give smooches to Michael Phelps, aka Supahfish.

Six (update: or more) gold medals may just be the tipping point.

(Oh, and it's a bit surreal to be watching the O's on Canadian television. "Ling Long Pagoda" is. . . well, let's just call that our inside joke.) =D

Thoughts ?

Because It Makes Me Laugh EVERY TIME

No more rhymes ! I mean it !

*pause*

Anybody want a peanut ?

Kudos to those of you who know the movie. . .

Thoughts ?

Because I WANT Comments, Dangit

A Quiz for People Who Know Everything
(apologies to the original author -- I give him or her props even though I have no idea who created this.)

1. There's one sport in which neither the spectators nor the participants know the score or the leader until the contest ends. What is it ?

2. What famous North American landmark is constantly moving backwards ?

3. Of all vegetables, only two can live to produce on their own for several growing seasons. All other vegetables must be replanted every year. What are the only two perennial vegetables ?

4. At noon and midnight, the hour and minute hands are exactly coincident with each other. How many other times between noon and midnight do the hour and minute hands cross ?

5. What is the only sport in which the ball is always in the possession of the team on defense, and the offensive team can score without touching the ball ?

6. What fruit has its seeds on the outside ?

7. In many liquor stores, you can buy pear brandy with a real pear inside the bottle. The pear is whole and ripe and the bottle is genuine; it hasn't been cut in any way. How did the pear get inside the bottle ?

8. Only three words in standard English begin with the letters "dw". They are all common. Name two of them.

9. There are fourteen punctuation marks in English grammar. Can you name half of them ?

10. Where are the lakes that are referred to in the "Los Angeles Lakers" ?

11. There are seven ways a baseball player can legally reach first base without getting a hit. Taking a base on balls (a "walk") is one way. Name the other six.

12. It's the only vegetable or fruit that is never sold frozen, canned, processed, cooked, or in any other form but fresh. What is it ?

13. How is it possible for a pitcher to make four or more strikeouts in one inning ?

14. Name six or more things that you can wear on your feet that begin with the letter "S".

I will post the answers when I am satisfied at the amount of comments begging for them. >=D

ROBERT -- you just need to write them down for me. No commenting for you, sir.

Thoughts ?

We've All Heard of a Twist in your Knickers. . .

This is how my day went yesterday.

I was very busy all day, which is not really a surprise.

What was a surprise, however, is that around 3:45 yesterday afternoon, I had a little itchy spot in the vicinity of my sternum. I piddled with it a couple of times, not really paying attention. About 4 o'clock, tho, it was really irritating, so I took a second to actually to see what the problem was.

Yep.

My bra had a complete twist in it and I DID NOT NOTICE.

Thoughts ?

Menagerie Updates

Nope. Not Cheepster.

I went outside on the deck late this afternoon to encourage Scooterpoo to come on into the house for the night. What I found was a fuzzy white fluffball who was VERY interested in "something" on the deck stair near the big pansy pots. When you see your cat pawing at something that you cannot see, of course, it is prudent to immediately go investigate.

What do I find ?

Same little snake that Frankie had hemmed up the other day in the backyard. (You'd think that the neighborhood nature livestock would have figured out that our yard is not the smartest place to take up residence. Our backyard is like Grand Cat-ral Station, for crying out loud. But I digress.)

Anyhow, very small snake (probably just a little grass snake) is mushed up all together hiding and Scooter has "founded" him. Now, I have to figure out a way to "encourage" Scooter to a) leave the dang snake alone, b) not involve me in his little snake detente, and 3) get his fuzzy hiney in the house like I TOLD him earlier.

Several "momma snaps" later, Scooter accepts the fact that he will get a thump on the top of his head if he so much as reaches a claw out toward what I told him to leave alone.

Epilogue: Snake fine, Scooter fine and in the house, Kismet mad at the world because she was in the house at the time of the discovery and, thus, missed out on some world-class smellin', and me ? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just waiting to write the next chapter of the Giffords Zoo Tales.

Thoughts ?

Herb Discipline and Apple Apologies

So, I bought a few herbs the other day at our local Farmer's Market -- I bought some Orange Thyme, Spicy Globe Basil (yeah, for the third time -- shut up), Golden Oregano, and. . . something else, it seems, without that little plastic tag thingy.

I have been acclimating them in my kitchen so that I could re-pot them and set them in my kitchen window. I went to get a bowl today for my morning Cheerios and noticed that one of the plants had droopy leaves. Because I might have forgotten to water them. A little.

Anyhow, I put them all in the sink when it hits me. I talk to all my plants and tell them to suck it up a little because being a plant in my house means no mollycoddling. You get water when I say and not before, mister. I praise the little guys who are hanging tough and I realize. . . the one with the droopy leaves is emo.

============================

Annnnnd speaking of forgetting things. . .

Robert found in the fridge the coconut caramel (Hawaiian) apple that we got a couple of weeks ago. When he started asking me about it, it came out that I didn't realize it was even still IN there. We had gotten two of them, one "pre-cut" into little slices and one that was not cut at all. The non-cut one was the one still in the icebox because, of course, I thought he had taken that one to work with him the week after we bought it. Had no idea it was still in there. Oops.

Thoughts ?

Conference Calls Are Bad For Your Health

Kismet loves speakerphone with male voices on the other end. No, I don't know why.

Here's what I do know, however -- after about 15 minutes of getting all wiggly while hearing voices on the speakerphone, she jumped up in the chair with me and BIT.ME.ON.THE.HEAD.

She was BITING me on my hairline !

The AMA should be notified of this, I think.

Kate -- Imma looking at Abigail.

Thoughts ?

Truth or Lies - June

Here's how the game is played:

I provide three facts. Two are true and one is not.

Pick out the lie. =P

1) I drove a Ferrari to my high school graduation
2) I went to Russia on spring break
3) I have been scuba diving in Costa Rica.

(Those who know me best know the answers to all of these. To my other two readers (=D), have fun guessing !

Thoughts ?

McDonalds on Notice

HEY !

Even though you CALL it a "Southern-Style Chicken Sandwich" with a "buttery-tasting bun", putting exactly two pickle slices on that particular sandwich makes it a total ripoff of Chik-Fil-A. Don't think no one has noticed. (Wiki - The sandwich also comes with two pickles simply because that was the only condiment he had on hand when the sandwich was created. Italics mine.)

I will not buy one. I will simply live here and dream of a day when I can get back down South for the real thing - the one that is juicy and delicious and *drool*. Oh, and if you think your counter help will EVER be as friendly and helpful as the ones that work for the restaurant chain that S. Truett Cathy founded, you have lost your MINDS.

Sandwich plagiarists !

Thoughts ?

Scooter's Sparkly Collar Was SO Last Month !

So, we couldn't have him being less than fashion forward, could we ?

He now has this season's scalloped black set off with a lovely, yet quite masculine, silver bell.

The ladies are going to be quite disappointed, however, I must tell you. I can hear the wailing and gnashing of teeth already. Frankie, the seal-point Siamese equivalent of a young Liberace , who lives next door will think it is FAB-u-lous !

Thoughts ?

Giffords Wildlife Sanctuary - pt 2

Second verse, same as the first.

Well, not quite.

I was woken up this morning by an ungodly whistling sound. Sound familiar ? Yep.

Scooter AND Kismet up in our bedroom. WITH ANOTHER BIRD. DagNABBIT.
Zero to WIDE AWAKE in under three seconds, thenk kyew very much.

10 seconds - I holler downstairs -- Babe ? Need HELP !
25 seconds - Yank Scooter off the bird. Again. And go throw him outside the bedroom door.
45 seconds - Realize the damn door did not close and I still have two cats and a bird loose.
1 minute - Throw Scooter out AGAIN and shut the door, making sure it LATCHES this time.
2 minutes - Still no Robert. The litany in my head is "don't poo on the bed, don't poo on the bed, don't poo on the bed. . . "
2.5 minutes - No bird visible.
3.5 minutes - Bird is DEFINITELY visible. He is clutching our curtains on the bedroom window. Good for him. Oh, nooooo -- dim bird flies at the skylight in our bedroom, then ends up over in the corner on the other side of the room. Have I mentioned that Kismet is super fast ? She looks like a deadly black otter. Kismet joins Scooter outside the door because I am super fast as well. Such a lie. I am a quasi-worrysome creamy eggshell panda. SLAM !
4 minutes - I take a moment to catch my breath and think. "Don't poo on the carpet, don't poo on the carpet. . ."

7 minutes - I shut the bathroom door and start looking for the bird. Same type as yesterday, by the way. The dumb type.
7.25 minutes - Robert has apparently fallen into a wormhole.
8 minutes - I spy the bird -- because he flies DIRECTLY at the skylight again. POINCK !
9 minutes - Bird takes refuge in the curtains. No, I mean IN the curtains. He is hanging in the tabs of the curtains underneath the curtain rod.
10 minutes - Robert who ?
11 minutes - my brain is already exhausted with the possibilities of how I am going to get this bird downstairs under the watchful eyes (and NOSES and CLAWS) of two cats who are still scratching and whining at the door.
12 minutes - bird solves my problem.

Note: Robert has STILL not managed to come up and "help", so. . . the dear readers will have to take my word for what happened next. I still am mystified. The bird flies from the curtain to the skylight and around the room. Once. Twice. Third time, he heads for the door and I. Catch. Him. In. My. Hands.

I have NO IDEA how this has happened. I credit Mr. Miagi and the lesson about catching a fly with chopsticks because I have no other explanation. Either that or the viewing of Kung Fu Panda last night has opened up my chi.

Bird nestles in my hands like he has good sense and I take this as a sign. Downstairs we go, with both cats now searching the bedroom like CSI:Gig Harbor. I nonchalantly go downstairs and have a small chat with Robert regarding his helpfulness and instant recognition of my need for IMMEDIATE assistance. He laughs. Ha. Ha. There was also something he mumbled about him replying and not hearing anything else from me, but I honestly heard a lot of Charlie Brown teacher-talk at that point. whaa-whaa-whaa

Cats are now downstairs, realizing that we have something that they are not privy to. I hand over the bird to Robert as. . . close your mental eyes, please. . . I have my sleeping clothes on and they are not fit for public viewing. I ask him to take the bird out to the very back of our yard and release him. Robert hears "release" and so, opens his hands immediately out the door.

Cheepster 2, cats 0.
Updates as events warrant.

Thoughts ?

You'd Never Know It From the Updates. . .

but there is truly never a dull moment at the Giffords household.

Picture if you will. . . I work from home and am on a conference call this morning when I hear the pet door flap open behind me. I hear an ungodly whistling sound and, out of the corner of my eye, spy a flash of white with something small and black in his mouth.

I did not know that moles whistle while being toyed with.

Further surprise -- it's not a mole.

2 seconds after this revelation, I have to tell the folks on call that my cat has caught. . . wait for it. . . a BIRD ! gah. He is very small, has black wings & head, and is in a very precarious position in the universe.

I see Scooter fly through the kitchen, sneaking peeks at me to see if I am following him. He gets to the landing on the staircase, giving me about five seconds to try and catch him. I snag him on the landing but only because the little bird is now putting up a fight. Scooter drops him and I snatch him up. Scooter, not the bird. Ohhh, but I didn't even know he KNEW those cat words. . .they were scorchers.

I run up the remaining stairs and fling (carefully) Scooter into our bedroom so that I have a closed door between him & Cheepster. Did I mention that I am still on the call ? Oh, yeah. Thank God I'm female and have quadraphonic ears. (Yes, I can hear my husband laughing right now.)

I run back down the stairs to find Cheepster. No bird. No bird ANYWHERE.

Lord Almighty -- where is the dang bird now ?

I still hear thumping, scratching, and angry MEows from upstairs so I know that I do not dare allow Scooter out until that bird shows up.

I am running around downstairs looking for the bird because I know that as I was pounding down the stairs I did not meet a small bird coming up.

I circle rapidly around my living room and come back to my desk, but I know that I still have a) a very angry cat upstairs and b) a uranium-level unstable bird somewhere in my house.

I finish up my call and realize that I have spotted the bird ! He is squashed down near the opening to our downstairs bathroom. He is hiding. I do not blame him. =P

Now, I have to figure out how I, a lithe minx after all, am going to manage to capture a very small, very FAST little bird. Without injury. To me. Yeah, yeah -- OR the bird. Such an animal lover am I.

I grab a couple of paper towels because THAT is the preferred bird-catcher equipment for professionals -- or something -- and I advance on Cheepster. I swoop down and I. Catch. Him.

I wrap him up in the paper towels very carefully and he snuggles down like it's a nest. Whut ?

Now, I have some more options -- I have to find a place to contain him because I still have some work to do. I plan to let him out at noon and that's about an hour & a half from now. I can't let him out right now because his left wing is cattywhompus and I don't know if he can fly. If he cannot fly, I might as well advertise him as a scooby snack when I set him free. Being me, I find a large empty cereal box and gently slide the paper towel nest inside. Also being me, I realize that -- duh -- no way to keep the bird INSIDE this lovely little box. Grr. Back to the drawing board.

Or. . .the garage ! We have a bunch of pet carriers ! Aha ! Yep, the bird got to spend some time behind bars. In the scariest prison known to ma. . . err. . . cat. And he seemed to love it. He was very quiet and very still for almost an hour. Of course, Scooter was in and out of the house, so maybe Cheepster was just exercising his God-given right of self-preservation.

About ten minutes before noon, which I like to call "breakout time", Scooter finally figured out that SOMETHING was in that scary box. The bird made a near-fatal error of moving around and making a weird scratchy noise on the cereal box. Scooter immediately went on point and jumped up on the counter to reclaim his "toy". After 5 minutes of playing the "get off my counter" game with Scooter, he gave up and huffed outside because his Momma was being sooo mean to him by not letting him dig around in that secret box with the interesting noises.

Noon ! I suit up and take everything outside. I have decided to place Cheepster in his paper towel nest up high in our holly bush. I figure that's relatively safe and, if he does have a wing problem, he'll be far enough up that that I can go check on him later without having to worry about his snack status. I place the carrier on the ground and wiggle the cereal box out. As I am bringing the box up to the holly bush, pRRRRRRRRRRT ! Cheepster is OUTTA THERE !





I'm happy that he's okay and ecstatic that he was not a Scooter snack, but jeez. . . did he have to get so close to my eyes on the way out ? I was a'-HAYLPin' him ! =P

Thoughts ?





P.S. Happy birthday, Daddy.

UPDATE: Scooter brought me another present this afternoon. Unfortunately, this one was a great deal more fragile. Let's just say. . . Cheepster = toy. Hummingbird = attempted snack. Very sad day in the Giffords household. I am sad that I was unable to release the hummingbird with the same success as Cheepster. Scooter is very sad that Momma is so mean that she took his prize away from him without even so much as a "sorry".

Harriet Houdini Strikes Again !

Collar # 11 has been released back to the earth.

I guess she doesn't realize that I know about a whole BUNCH of Target stores. . . and collars are relatively cheap.

She's got #12 on now. It's black, with a soft yellow and green rickrack pattern. We'll see how this trades on the black market, I'm sure.

Thoughts ?

Knit One, MOLE Two !

Yes, apparently the kitties believe that the way to show your love is to bring furry items into the house and lay them out carefully on the floor. Same size as last time, same level of "not alive".

I'm just glad that we are replacing the carpet right now and, thus, had it and the pad all torn up. Poor little guy was carefully placed on the subfloor so he was easy to pick up and move to his final resting place.

Kitties 2, Moles 0 for those keeping score at home.

Thoughts ?

To My Husband

It's almost hard to believe that it's been a year already. It doesn't seem that long and yet, we've had a great 12 months together.

This is the way that I can say what I want to without getting all teary. =) Thank you, baby. I love you dearly and I'm so glad that I have been lucky enough to get to keep you !

You have made it possible for me to realize that I am loved in return, that I married a very bright, thoughtful, caring man. One who brings me flowers when I am in a very bad mood. One who washes dishes occasionally, who indulges my gardening skills (er debacle), who listens to my opinions, even when they don't agree (at all !) with yours. One who makes me HAVE to justify some of my positions, thereby strengthening my resolve or giving me another perspective. One who does not allow me to be intellectually lazy, but who also does not force me to wake up earlier than 10am on the weekends. =D

You are the first man that I could see myself marrying. . . even though it took you frickin' FOREVER to ask me, you goober ! You make it possible for me to maintain my creativity, even in ways that you do not understand (the bead box). You make me proud to be your wife because of the kind of man you are (yes, I know this may embarrass you a little, but what wife doesn't want to brag on her husband JUST a teense?)

In short -- I am a lucky, lucky woman and I hope to be this lucky for many years to come.

Alas, Poor Collar #10

We hardly knew ye.

(For the record, it was glittery pink and gorgeous against a sleek black coat.) It is now, like so many others, lost to the vegetative wilds of our neighborhood.

*sigh*

Purchased Saturday, installed Sunday, lost between Monday night and Tuesday morning. Is this a record or what ?

Thoughts ?

Throwing Money Down a Rathole - Chapter Infinity

So, I'm driving home today when I hear a news story about the FAA. Seems they are now 'fessing up to Congress that they have "missed" about 300 regularly scheduled plane inspections in the last five years. They are now crying poverty to Congress and the head of the committee overseeing this matter. From the quote I heard today on the radio, she is basically replied, "Well, either they lied to us earlier about their staffing needs or they are making excuses now."

The bridge inspection program is similarly flawed, culminating in the Minnesota bridge collapse late last year. Oh, but. . . THOSE inspections were performed on a routine basis. Mmmhmm. I call shenanigans. They were no more performed than when the pothole patrole "fixes" potholes on streets that they have not been anywhere near. Of course, those pothole repairs are ALWAYS billed to the cities, right ? Absolutely ! Can't have those "repairs" going unpaid-for. /eyeroll

DCS failures are more than I can even stomach talking about. Don't get me wrong -- their job is awful. They are perpetually overloaded with more case files than are healthy, BUT. . . their failures involve small children and horrific trauma & abuse when they "miss the signs".

FEMA = teh suck. It continues to suck. It will always suck -- at least until somebody actually MERITS the top spot who has an actual backbone and who is more concerned with getting the job done CORRECTLY so that excuses do not have to be made and spin does not have to be performed because the job was so screwed up by bureaucratic idiots who are more concerned with keeping their jobs than actually PERFORMING the tasks that the job REQUIRES. Good God, people. Have you no pride in your career ? None ? Really ?

Military housing & hospitals. This makes me so angry I can't see straight. Our country is paying something like 12 BILLION dollars a MONTH to repair and build hospitals and schools over in Iraq. I know that this is a necessary step in attempting to restore whatever possible democracy there might be over there and I am okay with it, EXCEPT. We can't manage to use SOME of that money over here to make sure that they men and women who are putting themselves in harm's way on a daily basis get the medical treatment that they NEED, never mind DESERVE ? I saw a YouTube video the other day that made me so angry -- Fort Bragg has a set of barracks with peeling paint, backed up sewers, no drinking fountains & open pipes where they USED to be, etc. It just made me ill. It looks like low-quality Section 8 housing - not quite the projects, but damn close. What makes me so mad is that we are building BRAND NEW in another country, but we can't manage a freaking coat of PAINT on barracks for soldiers over here. The hospitals are just a disaster. Most take great care of injured soldiers and for that I am immensely grateful. The others, however, make me want to regulate that their administrators, bureaucrats, officers, whatever receive the EXACT SAME standard of care in the EXACT SAME rooms as long as the deficits exist. I think the Congressmen on the oversight committee should also be included in that group, btw.

Oh, I'll just throw in whoever the regulatory oversight committee or committees are who fell asleep at the switch AGAIN during this last little housing debacle. I mean, c'MON, people. Did Enron teach us NOTHING ? WorldCom ring a bell ? Tyco ? Any of this sinking in ? Or was it just way easier to line your damn pockets with money from [ the middle class and working poor, oh, I meant "heaven" ] and wear your blinders that this bubble was getting larger every day ?

Okay -- my rant is now over EXCEPT for this question. Exactly what are my tax dollars going for ? What is my guarantee that they are actually going to governmental programs that help those that just need a little assistance, rather than lining the pockets and paying for the vacation homes of career bureaucrats and ass-kissers on both sides of the party line ? I am tired of this. I am sick of this. I am PISSED and I am about to rip someone a new one.

This has GOT TO STOP.

Thoughts ?

It Is NOT !

It is NOT joolery. It is *jewel*ry. It's about JEWELS.

It is NOT Realitor. It is a *real*tor. Like REAL estate.

It is NOT nuke-kyew-lar". (This one just makes my ears bleed.) It is nuke-*le*-ar. Like a NUCLEUS.

gah.

Thoughts ?

I Remember Now Why They're Spelled Car"rot"s

And, as far as our household is concerned, I guess it should also be spelled celer"ot"y as well.

I am just going to pretend that I bought those veggies for compost starters. Yep. That's it.

Thoughts ?

*sings* Love Potion #9. . . err. . . COLLAR #9

Yes.

Again.

Turquoise sparkly lost to either the wilds of our neighborhood woods or the Collars for Catnip scandal that I'm sure is brewing.

Must dash. I'm sure I will have to shave my legs when I'm called before Congress to testify.

Thoughts ?

Leatherheads

Go see it. Quickly.

That is all.

Thoughts ?

The Traveling Gnome Can Bite My Tuckus

So, Robert checked out flights to go down to SoCal over Memorial Day. He selected a flight that met his schedule and budget and made arrangements with Travelocity to fly down.

Sounds easy, right ? Simple.

But, noooo. My loving man decided that he would use a certain credit card, which will not be named here. The credit card is accepted in a GREAT deal of places, but NOT by the particular airline that offered the flight that he had requested. If the website had MENTIONED this, that would have been fabulous, but, unfortunately their software engineers (or upper management) are apparently dedicated to churning out steaming piles of software that only appears to work.

He received a confirmation email. Good.
He received an email that told him that his card had been charged. Good.
Three days LATER, however, he got a phone call. *cue ominous music*

The person on the other end of the call told him TODAY that the card he had chosen is not accepted by [ airline ] and, thus, he would have to rebuy the flight. At a cost of more than TWICE the original price. Whu ?

Why exactly was he not told when he booked the flight via a software dialog window ? Good question.
Why did it take THREE days for him to be told about this oh. . . bait and switch sound about right ? (Yes, I said bait and switch. And I meant it.)
Why exactly did he get a call JUST within the four week lead time period which forced the flight to be { exorbitant freaking amount of money } instead of the { relatively inexpensive upgrade } that would have been possible OUTSIDE that four-week period ?

I have no answers except to say this -- and you can quote me:
1) We will not be doing business with Travelocity again
2) For the amount of time on hold, I think we should get frequent flier miles just to reimburse him for the minutes, and
3) I am not usually quite this irritated, but. . .are you kidding ?

Thoughts ?

Day Trip to Westport = Collar #8

So on Saturday while Robert and I were driving out to the town of Westport, which is on the Pacific coast, it appears that Kismet was busy trading her last collar for more catnip.

Anyone know a good catnip rehab program ? Or a way to buy cute collars in bulk ? Or how to glue collars to fur ? I'm just sayin'.

Thoughts ?

Collar #7

But it wasn't Kismet this time ! It was Scooterpoo. He finally ditched that reflective yellow number that looked *sooo* spiffy against his fluffy white hair. [ sarcasm=off ].

It's rather unfortunate for him, however, that I was prepared this time. He is now attired in a very glittery black number that will go great with the patent leather SoftPaws that I plan to glue on him. (I might be kidding about only part of this.)

Thoughts ?

The Stupid. . . It Burnsses

Fortunately, there's Jell-O !

Have ya ever had one of those days ? Yeah.

I am SO tempted right now -- rather than putting cut up fruit in a pan of jello, I am having to stave off the insane notion of just throwing M&Ms in there. Vodka-soaked M&Ms.

Because THAT, dear reader, is the type of day I have had. And -- fortunately it's now OVER.

Thoughts ?

Holy Mole-y !

So. . . the other day, I was sitting here at my computer doing some work. I caught a flash of white out of the corner of my eye and figured that it was just Scooterpoo by my desk. No big deal, right ? When he didn't move and come beg for me to pet him, though, that seemed a little odd.

I looked down to see what he was doing and lo and behold. . . I saw his "toy". EGAD ! I thought it was a mouse. . . which would have been bad enough, but nooooo -- it wasn't a mouse. It was a critter that I have never seen up close and personal like this ever before.

It was. . . a little tiny MOLE. (BTW, y'all, he was already on the roof. Scooter didn't do it and I certainly didn't ! He was already stiff, so I know he had been deceased for a while.)


Being from West Texas, we don't have moles -- we have ground squirrels. I KNOW what a ground squirrel looks like. I am comfortable with ground squirrels. I understand ground squirrels. Moles ? Not so much.


So. . . I did what I usually do. I took lots of pictures to show everyone !

Here they are. . .


(I put him on a paper towel so the pictures would show up a little better -- and so I didn't actually touch him. Okay -- I SO did ! I've always heard about "moleskin", but I just couldn't believe what that might feel like. It's TOTALLY soft and very "sleek"-feeling.)

Mole on paper towel -- the nose was SO interesting to me. His tail is also weird. It's doesn't look rat-like at all, but it kind of is. The hair on the tail is a little pokey-outty, but not "sharp-pokey". Seriously -- so hard to describe. Go fondle a mole. Get your freak on. =D

Put him next to my cell phone for size perspective.

Tiny little "shovel" hands.

This is the underside of his nose. I thought the "crease" was so weird. And, OH ! Those FINGERNAILS ! Yeesh.

Anyhow, the rest of his family is also scheduled for their final goodbyes. I am sad and he seems very cute, but. . . I'm thoroughly sick of the huge dirt lumps in my front lawn and I haven't been able to yet persuade them to move somewhere else. (Like the neighbor's back yard -- which is totally overgrown and where no one would actually SEE their destruction. *sigh*)

Thoughts ?

Sometimes You Just Have to Share Stuff

My mom sent me something this afternoon that made my eyes sweat a little bit.

These are five little girls singing the Star-Spangled Banner at a ballgame between Texas and Tech and they are simply. . . brilliant. Just amazing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QKCVS57j284

I do not post this for political reasons or because I think they have amazing voices, given their ages. I am posting this because sometimes you just have share the very.best.things with your friends. It would be wrong . It would be like creating the most beautiful hybrid flower and never distributing the seeds.

Anyhow, I have to go blow my nose now. My eyes are still sweating.

Thoughts ?

Because, Really. . . Who *Doesn't* Like Tea Cakes ?

I made a batch of little "tea cakes" today. They are nothing special as far as the components go -- a little water, a little oil, a few eggs, and my special ingredient -- a storebought yellow cake mix !

What IS special, however, is the pan ! It's a Nordic Ware tea cake pan with 30 "cavities" (which is only fair, because that's probably how many I'm going to end up with).

I made a couple of full batches, but didn't have enough batter to make a third full pan, so I just picked my favorites and poured batter into them.

They came out okay, but I think more trial and error is definitely warranted. It's harder than it looks to get the right amount of batter in each little space, but I will vow right now to continue my quest and make tea cakes as many times as it takes to get it right ! =D

Then. . . I did a little experimenting with glazes. Mind you. . . I've never *made* a glaze before. Evah.

It's not all that hard, btw. Confectioner's sugar + milk + a little vanilla extract makes a perfectly serviceable glaze. Nota bene: A so-called "splash" of milk into your powdered sugar mound immediately renders said sugar to a liquid state -- not really what I was going for. It all worked out fine, though. I just added more sugar to the viscosity until it looked "right". I had a little over a cup of glaze at that point. The plain white glaze had that "powdered sugar" aftertaste, tho, and that's not what I wanted.

I poured off about a third into another bowl and another third into a second bowl. I put a couple shakes of ground cinnamon into one bowl and the same amount of cocoa into the other bowl. Yeah. Miracle.

I still have most of the tea cakes right now, but let me say this -- Robert LOVED them ! They are about the diameter of a quarter and about an inch tall, so. . .these may be my favorite new "tiny snack".

Pics to come.





Update: Pics as promised (and only 6 months late !)

Thoughts ?

We're on Collar #6 Now

Yes, Kismet lost ANOTHER collar last week.

I think there may be a black market -- Collars for Catnip -- operating in our neighborhood. That appears to be the only sensible explanation.

Thoughts ?

I Hate Being A Grownup - Memories of My Dogs

It's just so hard sometimes.

I had to make a decision to put my dogs down in January and it was awful. They would have been fifteen years old in March, but it just wasn't fair to them to keep them around just because of me. They were both basically blind, both had multiple health issues, and both had recently taken a turn for the worse as far as the progression of their dementia. Still -- it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do.

It's so difficult to do the right thing for an animal. People can at least tell you what their wishes are and you can carry them out. With animals, though, you *have* to make the decision.

I had had them for fifteen years, minus two months. They have been with me in six locations -- four in Texas, one in Idaho, and one in Washington (two if you count the apartment & house in the same town). I have moved them, along with all my other earthly goods from hither to yon and have been glad to do so. They were good dogs. They loved me dearly, even when they forgot who they were.

===============================================

I remember when they were puppies -- when I first got them in Lubbock. I remember asking someone at the apartment (who also had a Lhasa puppy) where they got it, getting the info, and driving out to the breeder's house to check out the litter, dam, & sire. I only wanted one and picked out Bix on a Friday. I thought about it all weekend and realized that I needed her to have a buddy since I was going to college and working. So, I picked up her brother along with her on Monday.

They were adorable -- tiny little puffballs of fur. They played together until they just.fell.down and they loved being petted and held. They both wanted to be lapdogs. . . but they were WAY too wiggly. =P I remember taking them for walks and teaching them to "wait" at the streets. I also remember them running like crazy dogs outside on the "dog lawn" at the apartment.

I had them in Lubbock for a little over a year -- until I graduated from college. When I left the apartment, my security deposit stayed behind -- I should have known then that they would be the most expensive toys I would ever own. =D

I packed them up, along with everything else and moved to Big Spring where I had a job waiting. They got to live with my mom and me while I was working at the hospital. They roamed around all over the homeplace and got to know Momma's dog, Bill. Bill was a "donated" lab/chow/pit mix (about 60 lbs) that someone just dumped out where we lived. He'd been with Momma for a while and had adjusted to Dudley, the old dog on the place. They were pretty good buddies up until Dudley passed away.

Bill and Bix got along pretty well because Bill thought she was the cutest thing he'd ever seen. Baxter, however, was another story. Both of the boys still had all their equipment which led to some pretty ugly confrontations. After the third or fourth "misunderstanding" -- which always involved separating both dogs, they both went to visit Dr. Neil for an attitude adjustment. That definitely stopped the "misunderstandings", but Baxter never really trusted Bill after that, not that I could have blamed him.

A year or so later, I got itchy feet and went to live in Austin. I took the dogs and my stuff and found an apartment near my work. It was a great place, if you had dogs, because it was right next to an "overflow" basin. (When it rained really hard, the water would catch in the overflow basin and be allowed to flow out in a much more constrained manner during the next few days.) Since they were right next to this big basin, the apartments basically designated the dam around the basin as the "dog walk". The apartments also had a "policy" where dogs couldn't weigh over 25 lbs, which gave me a little trouble with Bax -- he fluctuated between 24-26 pounds. They also didn't like the idea of me having two of them, but. . . I explained it like this, "You can either have a tenant that has two dogs. . .or you can have an empty apartment." Yep, we all moved in shortly thereafter. =D

Speaking of the 25 lb policy. . . one of the tenants there had two GINORMOUS dogs -- one was a Rottweiler and one was a mastiff. Yeah, I know. 25 lbs, my hind fanny. Anyhow, they "usually lived with someone else" and he "only had them a few times a month" so I guess it was fine. Mmmhmm. Anyhow, Bix met these two huge dogs one night on our dog walk. Baxter immediately hid behind me but Bix ? Oh, noooo. Thank God I had them both on their leashes because she went RIGHT AT the biggest dog I've ever seen, barking and growling.

Have you ever seen a big dog laugh ? I have.

Both Tyson (the Rott) and Slobber (the mastiff) [ hey, it's not like I named 'em ] LOOKED at each other and, I swear this is true, LAUGHED. I am yanking on Bix's leash, trying to get her out of the jaws of doom and they just continued their doggie laughing. She was so protective. All 14 lbs of her. Telling those big ol' dogs that they would be in BIG trouble if they hurt her momma. She was the very best scooby snack I've ever seen.

More later -- I have to go find Kleenex now.

Thoughts ?

Weekend Meanderings When It's Not Raining

We took a little trip this weekend around the 3 loop. We drove across the Purdy causeway and went over to Shelton, just because we hadn't been there before. We have been telling ourselves that we wanted to visit Shelton -- we just hadn't taken the time before. The weather was beautiful and it was so pretty driving through all the pine trees with a bright blue sky above us.

When we got to Shelton, we realized it was a little smaller than we anticipated. Robert had done the prep work and knew that Shelton was about 3,000-3,500 people -- I guess I just forgot that that's kind of a little town, compared with where we're currently living. =D

We poked around Shelton for a little bit and stopped into their "big" thrift store because I'm just a junk . . . um. . . junkie. Nothing to write home about. If I was des-per-ate, the silverware collection might be a place to root around if for nothing more than bracelet/necklace components. (Think Perry & Kelly Smith, Kate). We (okay, fine -- I) got a little lost driving around in town as well. I blame this on my mother's genes. You know I'm calling you out for Everett, Momma. We also took a peek at the Mason County Courthouse building which was definitely worth a visit.

Anyhow, while los. . . err. . . bewildered, we came upon this sign:
** insert pic here**
and that's when we knew that it was probably time for us to move along.

We went from Shelton down to Olympia, which is the state capitol of Washington. The state capitol building has a large dome on it, as do many of the other state capitol buildings that I have seen. It also appears to be built out of the same huge blocks of stone that the county courthouse building is made of so it was a nice bit of architectural continuity.

By then, it was getting a little bit nippy so we headed back towards home. Shipwreck Beads is on the way, though, so I persu . . . trick. . .err made a deal with Robert that I wouldn't spend more than 30 minutes there. I got some really cool hematite pieces and some random stone strings. I also got a string of something I'd never seen identified -- it's called blue goldstone. It's a very dark blue/purple with what looks like glitter inside the stone. Some pieces have much more "glitter" than others, but it's still a gorgeous stone. I was considering making earrings, but none of the pieces on the string look close enough to one another where I think that they will look good as a set. *sigh* Maybe I just need to string them as a bracelet. I'll think about it.

Hometown Refinery Goes Boom This Morning

Everyone I know is fine.

Pictures from Fox News

So, I get an email this morning from my mother. The refinery about 25 miles from my childhood home had a severe blast, sending a huge cloud of smoke up in the air. The news from CNN says one injured, no fatalities, which is unbelievably good news, considering the circumstances.

I immediately call my mom, just to make sure she's okay. She is -- but she and one of her neighbors both checked their propane tanks and water tanks when they heard the explosion. This amuses me greatly and on many levels.

Anyhow, for now -- all is well, except for the fact that the third largest inland refinery in the world will have at least part of its total capacity severely hindered until the fallout from the blast is cleaned up/repaired/put back on line.

Thoughts ?

Jamba Juice !

So. . . I am a troll and a hermit. I had never had Jamba Juice before.

We got some last night and I may be a convert. I got the BananaBerry, which is strawberries & bananas, blended with low-fat yogurt and juice and. . . I have to say it was very good. I was very surprised.

It was so good, in fact. . .that I am having another one this afternoon ! Yeah, same kind (I'm not a good early adopter.)

Rawr ! Straw(r)berries & bananas !

Thoughts ?

Because I'm Sure Everyone Thought I Quit Posting. . .

I really haven't quit.


I visit the site from time to time to see if any new posts have magically showed up due to the writing sprites, but. . . nooooo. They are apparently either hiding or on strike. Oh. On strike. I guess my writing sprites are card-carrying members of the Writers' Guild ! That must be it !


Anyhow, since they are on strike, I guess I'll break down and post for them. *sigh* Always gotta pick up the slack for those sprites. . .


Kitties ! Everyone loves kitties !


Kismet -- wearing what we now know will be only the first of five collars. She is now wearing collar #5, having lost 2, 3, & 4. (I took the first one off because I bought a way cuter collar, but that one was #2 and it was promptly lost in the great wilds of our neighborhood.)




S'prise -- [[ Okay, now for the minutiae explanation (for those of you who play WoW, on the Horde side, who rolled either troll or orc, AND who did the "Lazy Peon" quest, this is for you. . .)]]

This is what I see when I look at this picture of Scooterpoo. . . "Something need doing ?" and/or "Me not that kind of orc !"




Dogs

For those that knew and loved them. . . I will make a separate post soon. It's taken a while just because it's still difficult to process.


And other things that cross my mind randomly. . .


Patriots or Giants ? Honestly -- I don't care because it's an all-Northeast Superbowl. Now, if it were the Pats against Hillary Clinton, I think we might have a ball game ! The only point of interest that I have in the game AT ALL is the possibility that the Pats go 19-0 and knock off the 1972 Miami Dolphins as the only undefeated team in history. Having said that, of course, they have already done that, as their de facto season has two extra games in it; the Dolphins ended up as 17-0, which the Pats have already surpassed.


I read that Britney Spears has been hospitalized for "observation" of some of her "issues". [sarcasm=on] Gee, really ? [/sarcasm] Haven't we all been subjected to the incessant "observation" of her "issues" via the paparazzi for the last several months ? And, honestly, show of hands, now -- who among us seriously believed that KFed would turn out to be the "responsible" party in that relationship ? I fear for those children. Hell, I also fear for the spawn of the other Spears child. Lynne ? Seriously ? Were you sleeping 23 hours a day ? Jeez, woman. WAKE UP.


And Dr. Phil ? This is straight to you, buddy. You have lost whatever iota of credibility you still MIGHT have retained when you went to "help" Britney and, instead, made it a story line. You are a disgrace to the therapeutic community. You have crossed every boundary of professionalism and have made a laughing stock of yourself and your so-called "self-help". Boo. Hiss. Please fully embrace your showman side so you can head off to the circus and leave the actual therapy to qualified individuals.


Heath Ledger -- I am sorry that he is not with us any more. I am sorry for his family and friends. I have to, however, reserve judgment due to the reports that several different prescriptions were found around him when he passed away. I am certainly not suggesting that he took his own life, but I am not above suggesting that a certain level of responsibility needs to be exercised, even if you are famous, to guard your health from all threats, both outside your circle and inside your own braincase.


Celebrities -- why is it that the majority of Americans would prefer that children grow up with two parents and you "famous people" can't manage to marry before you squirt out progeny ? Is it some Faustian contract that you sign when you agree to put your life on public display that you feel the need to reproduce without benefit of wedlock ? Shame on you. I'll say it. I don't care. Shame on you ! You have money to burn, nannies without number, assistants and handlers and stylists and whatever and you flaunt your irresponsibilities in multi-thousand dollar strollers. What is the MATTER with you ? Seriously, we should go back to the practice of shunning. . . =P

I'm calling out. . . lessee. . .Nicole Richie, Jamie Spears, Halle Berry, Matthew McConaghey's (sp?) gf, and LOTS more. Thanks for inspiring the trailer park trash and ghetto hos to whelp more litters. Wish you were required to pay a substantial portion of your earnings to support those who follow your lead.


(This portion of the post is not directed at those folks who manage to make it to the altar BEFORE producing offspring, btw. Kudos to Julia Roberts, Jennifer Garner, Courtney Cox, JLo, Christina Aguilera, etc. Thanks, ladies -- it makes it easier to know that there are still some folks that make decent role models (although Christina ? Chicklet -- please wear more than dental floss now that you are a mommy).)


Politics -- Hillary, Obama, McCain ! Oh, my ! This is shaping up to be one of the best bare-knuckle dustups in recent memory. It will be a barnburner up until the end, I think.


I have been reading a few of the blogs that my husband follows and, I have to say, I have some questions for the Republican leadership based on some of the points that have been raised in the blogs.


Here's what I would like answered:


1) Why do we have a separate mercenary force operating in Iraq (Blackwater) and why are we paying them untold vast sums of money when we can't manage to provide mental health treatment for the folks serving in the armed forces now ? I saw a blurb that stated that we currently have a higher level of suicides from returning vets than any time in history. Whut ?


1a) Why can't we just let the Iraqi people know that if the radicals among them will quit blowing up stuff that we (and the rest of the Iraqi people) are trying to build (roads, sewer systems, water tanks, etc), we will be glad to leave as soon as it's finished ?


2) Why is Exxon still showing the highest profits in history and gas still hovering around $3 a barrel, but we (as a country) still cannot manage to put folks from Katrina (2 years ago) in some type of affordable housing ? Why does it take a private organization (Habitat for Humanity) to show the government how to perform this ?


3) Why are CEOs still paid exorbitant salaries when Wall Street is taking a beating ? More importantly, why is Wall Street taking a beating ? Where were the regulators when "everyone" thought sub-prime mortgages were a great idea ? Whose pea-brained idea is it that the industry should offer "easy to afford" mortgages to those who are not the greatest credit risk to begin with ? I don't mean to say that the poor should be punished -- rather that the irresponsible and poor decision makers should not be rewarded for those traits. Now that a great deal of money has been squeezed out of a large section of the populace, it appears that it has been distilled into the pockets of the very rich and that the poor and middle-class will once again be left holding the bag in the form of bailouts and ever-shrinking pools of candidates from whom to borrow. What with BoA setting up to buy Countrywide and (is it JPMorgan ?) going to buy (Chase?), it just means that the monopoly continues to get closer to locked down.


It also means that there is a vast swath of real estate foreclosures that no one wants to claim responsibility for atm. This is ridiculous. The banks don't want the properties on their books, so they try and foist them off on the cities as "abandoned" so that the cities will be responsible for the maintenance. The cities don't want the responsibility of the maintenance cost, so they throw back to the banks. Meanwhile, the shelters are still full. Why not use the houses as temporary shelters for those folks who are one paycheck out of their previous home ? Claim them as safe houses for domestic violence victims. Set them up as starter houses for welfare recipients, rather than putting them in public housing projects. In short, USE THEM.


Okay -- now for fun stuff. . .


Love Project Runway. Ricky -- please quit your crying. It's annoying now. Christian -- you are talented, but honey, you're still little. Give it a few years to grow into that ego of yours because right now, honestly, you're about an 8 and your hat size is about a 24XX. SweetP -- show some fight ! I think most of your clothes have been intriguing and clever, but you're letting your insecurities get the best of you. Don't be a Wendy Pepper. Chris M -- I hope you win it all. I haven't liked all of your clothes, mind you, but I think you are a bright guy and you definitely have your own voice. (No pun intended) Jillian -- I love your clothes, but I would have already strangled you with some type of embroidery floss just because you whine so. Seriously. Knock it off. And, no, I don't care what kind of "stress" you are under. If you think the competition is tough, you have ZERO clue what is waiting for you in the fashion industry, no matter that you used to work at Ralph Lauren.


Can't wait for Top Chef - Chicago.


Gotta leave now to go grocery shopping ! YAY !


Thoughts ?